Текст книги "The Return of the Gypsy"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Suicide or Murder?

I WAS BACK AT Grasslands. I had not had a moment’s peace since that interview with Peter Lansdon. I saw Jake only once before we returned. I dared not tell him what had happened for fear of what action he would take. It was blackmail of a sort. I was as guilty as Peter himself. If he were blackmailing me I was blackmailing him.

I had a notion that Jake might welcome the exposure. Jake was the sort of man who hated inaction. Patience was not one of his virtues. I knew that he was capable of reckless action as he had shown when he had run off and joined the gypsies, when he had dashed in and killed the man who would have ravished Leah. He would have said: “Let him talk. He should be exposed for what he is—and we’ll take the consequences.”

Those consequences, he would believe, might well result in our being together. I wanted to be with Jake forever. I wanted a permanent union. I wanted a home with him; I wanted his children. But I could not hurt Edward. I could not disturb his world in which I knew I was more important than anything. He would have his comforts, the attentions of James, Toby and Clare. But it was my presence which made it possible for him to endure the life into which misfortune had thrust him.

I could never be completely happy if I hurt Edward.

So I could not tell Jake. But what had happened could not fail to have an effect on me; and he knew that something was wrong.

I left him frustrated and uneasy.

Peter Lansdon had returned to Enderby before we arrived home. He had already told his story and I had to admit he made it sound plausible enough. He mentioned what a great pleasure it was to him to be able to put right this little difference between my father and Jonathan.

The great topic at Eversleigh was Peter’s discovery of Prue Parker. My father was a little shamefaced, trying to be more gracious to Jonathan. Jonathan was delighted that his innocence had been proved.

When we returned Tamarisk’s pleasure in seeing Jonathan again was overwhelming. She kept telling him how she had seen Prue in the street and, recognizing her, had followed her because she was determined to prove him right and Prue wrong. “And then we went there,” she cried, “and Peter was there…”

Nobody thought it strange that we should have seen her when she was on her way to meet Peter and that he had chosen that questionable club as a rendezvous. It was a coincidence, but they were so interested in the story that they did not probe too deeply into the details.

Peter dismissed any doubts they might have had. “It was a place she knew; she was attached to it in some way. It seemed reasonable to meet her there.”

He modestly accepted the gratitude of all for having solved the mystery.

I wanted to shout at them that it would have remained a mystery if Tamarisk hadn’t seen the girl in the street and we had caught him there redhanded.

But how could I? I had to be silent.

I did not want to go to London again. I did not feel I could go to Jake. How would I know whether or not I was being watched? Peter had spoiled everything for me. He had made me feel unclean … wicked … as bad as he was. He did not mind; he revelled in his wickedness; he called it shrewdness.

When he caught my eye he would smile at me in a very special way. I had the horrible feeling that he was assessing me. What had he said: “I always found you attractive …” He was implying “More so than Amaryllis.” But he had chosen her because she was docile. I told myself I would never have married him. I admit I had at first been attracted, but not by him as much as the glamour of romance … being rescued, as I had thought he had rescued me.

The horrible thought came to me that he might make another suggestion as a price of silence. I was thankful that I had enough against him to balance our evil doings.

There was something cold about him, snake-like. I wondered at Amaryllis who was so much in love with him still. He was clever. He could slip in and out of his masks, changing his personality, shedding a skin. Yes, snake-like.

He began to haunt my dreams as a nightmare figure.

Sometimes in the night I felt I would go to Edward and confess. I would tell him that I would stay with him for ever and never see Jake again. Jake must take Tamarisk away. They could go to Cornwall on the other side of England, a long way from us.

Only confession could free me from Peter Lansdon.

My mother said: “Are you all right? You haven’t looked well since you came back from London.”

“I’m quite well, thanks.”

If only I could tell her! She would understand. But I dared not.

“It will soon be Christmas,” she went on. “It is amazing how time creeps up on one. We’ll have to start planning for it soon.”

I agreed.

She was not the only one who noticed. Clare said to me: “Are you well?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You seem different… since you came back from London. A little nervous … Did anything happen during your trip?”

“No … no.”

I had always had an uneasy feeling about Clare. She was useful in the house. She would sit and read to Edward and play piquet with him. She was a great help but I always felt she resented me.

Leah was useful too. While Tamarisk was in London she turned her attention to the sick room.

“I have two handmaidens now,” said Edward. “Clare and Leah. And with James and Toby I am really cossetted.”

“You have me … another handmaiden,” I reminded him.

“You are not a handmaiden. You are my queen.”

I laughed, but my heart was heavy. He must never know, I told myself.

Meanwhile Jake was getting restive. He had been to Cornwall, for it was necessary for him to return, but his stay there was brief and he was soon back in London.

He wrote to me again. His letter was an impassioned plea to come to London. If I did not, he said, he would come to Grasslands. He had plans. He could not wait forever. We were wasting our lives. We belonged together.

The letter alarmed me while it delighted me.

I told myself I should destroy it but I could not bring myself to do so. For a day I carried it with me, tucked into my bodice but I thought that might be detected so I hid it at the back of one of my drawers with that other letter. I read them again and again. They comforted me; they set me dreaming of the impossible.

When I was talking to my mother about Christmas I said: “What about Tamarisk’s father?”

“Perhaps he will want her to go to him in Cornwall?”

“She never would. She is more devoted to Jonathan than ever.”

“I suppose we should ask him here.”

I hesitated.

“Is it difficult? We could have him at Eversleigh.”

“No … no. He should be where Tamarisk is.”

“He doesn’t seem in any hurry to take action about the child.”

“I think he would. It rests with Tamarisk.”

“It’s an unfortunate business. One sees why convention and regularity in family life is so sought after.”

“I agree,” I said.

“We shall have a full house as usual at Eversleigh, I daresay. The Pettigrews will be here … and others, I suppose.”

“Oh … I have room at Grasslands.”

The idea of having him in the house excited me while it filled me with apprehension.

Peter would be at Enderby. He would certainly be home for Christmas. The three houses would be united in the festive celebrations and I should see a great deal of him. I wondered how I should feel being with Jake, while Peter looked on. I could imagine his bland looks and secret amusement.

I wrote asking Jake to come for Christmas.

After I had done so I went up to my room and, as I did in moments of solitude, I wanted to read the letters again.

Reading them brought him back to me, made me relive those magic moments, made the longing for him so intense that I forgot everything else but him.

I opened the drawer and felt behind the gloves and handkerchiefs for the letters.

They were not there.

But I remembered putting them away. I had been most careful. I turned out the drawer. I rummaged through the one immediately below it. I went through all the drawers. There was no sign of the letters.

Panic set in. Someone had taken them.

The idea of someone else reading those letters horrified me. Peter! I thought. It must be Peter.

I must find him at once. I must retrieve the letters. What price would he ask for them? I should never have allowed myself to be blackmailed. Blackmailers were known for not stopping in their demands. They wanted more and more. Oh, I should never have entered into this diabolical pact. I felt frantic with anxiety.

I met Clare on the way down.

I said: “Did Peter call yesterday?”

“Yes … I believe he did. He was with Amaryllis. They looked in while you were out. They must have forgotten to tell you.”

“I must see him at once.”

I went to Enderby. Peter was not there.

“He’s gone into town,” said Amaryllis. “He’s leaving for London tomorrow.”

“What… again?”

“He’s so involved in business,” she said with pride.

I pondered whether I should go and look for him. No, I thought. It will make me appear too anxious. If he threatened to use those letters I should go at once to my father and expose him for what he is. He would not want that. I was safe because I knew so much about him.

I must have been away an hour. The house was quiet when I returned. Soon it would be time for me to go to Edward. I would tell him that my mother was full of Christmas plans and had suggested that we invite Tamarisk’s father for the holiday.

I kept thinking about the letters and imagining their falling into Edward’s hands. It would be better for me to tell him myself. I would make him understand how it had happened. It should never happen again, I would assure him. I would pledge myself to that.

How devious I was! And with the worst kind of deviousness, because I deceived myself. I was longing for Jake to come and I knew that when he did, nothing would matter to me but that we were together again.

I went up to my room, took off my riding clothes and changed into a house dress.

I saw Leah and the thought struck me that she would have ample opportunities for taking the letters. She had loved Jake and had lured Tamarisk away from her home because she was his daughter. Since she had joined our household she had seemed to be gentle, law-abiding, but at heart she might well still be the fierce gypsy. Did she still love Jake? Had she, with that special perception which gypsies possess, divined that Jake and I were lovers? Why should she take my letters? And having read them what would she think of them? Clare? Could it be Clare? Clare loved Edward. She would believe that she should have been the one who should look after him. What would she think of one who had taken the position which should have been hers and then showed contempt for it?

If Clare had found the letters would she show them to Edward? Would she expose me for the adulteress I was?

My uneasiness had increased. Each morning when I awoke it was with a fearful dread of what the day would bring.

Christmas was almost upon us. The following day Jake would be here.

The weather had turned cold and I was anxiously watching the sky, fearful that there might be snow which would impede his journey.

I yearned to see him and yet I was fearful of his coming.

I went up to see the room which had been prepared for him. It was on the first floor. I opened the door and looked in. There was the red-curtained four-poster bed; the rich red curtains and the carpet with the touch of flame colour in it. I had changed the furnishings when I had come here. This had been Mrs. Trent’s room. It had been rather sombre then. She had been a strange woman who had had a reputation for being a witch and I had wanted to eliminate all traces of her.

A fire was now burning in the grate. Rooms grew cold in a house like this when they were not used.

I touched the bed. The warming pan was already there. They would renew it when it grew cold.

I thought of his arrival. He would try to lure me into this room, but I must be strong.

I sat down by the window and watched the firelight throwing flickering shadows on the walls.

The door began to open cautiously.

It was Leah.

She jumped when she saw me—as startled to see me as I was her.

“I… just came in to look at the fire,” she said. “They can be dangerous … even with the guard up.”

“Oh yes. Sparks on the carpet.”

“Yes,” said Leah and prepared to go out.

I said: “Just a moment, Leah.” She paused and I went on: “Sit down.”

“This room looks cosy in firelight, doesn’t it?” I said. “It’s really a very pleasant room.”

Leah said that it did look cosy and it was a pleasant room.

Edward had used it before he had gone to the one downstairs and many times had I sat by the red-curtained bed reading to him. I had been content enough then … living in the glory of self sacrifice. But making sacrifices, so ennobling in the initial stages, becomes wearying. A quick sharp sacrifice is all very well, but when it goes on and on one becomes angry—not so much with oneself who has made the decision in the first place, but with the one for whom the sacrifice is being made.

I must never show the faintest irritation which I sometimes felt towards Edward. How perverse people are! They are irritated by the goodness in others. If Edward had been a little tetchy more often, a little less patient, I could have let my anger flare up, I could have released my pent-up feelings. But because he was so good, I must feel this bitter remorse.

“Leah,” I said suddenly, “do you ever think of the old days?”

“Oh yes, Mrs. Barrington.”

“Do you ever wish yourself back with the caravans and the free and easy life of the roads?”

She shook her head. “I’m content here. It was bitterly cold at night. The sun was too hot or the wind blew too cold. I’ve got used to living in a house.”

“And of course Tamarisk is here. You will go to Cornwall with her when … and if… she goes.”

“Is she going, Mrs. Barrington?”

“I suppose she will eventually.”

“She won’t want to leave here. That I know.”

“She will, I daresay, go with her father.”

“She didn’t know she had a father until a little while ago.”

“Well, now she does and her place is with him.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Leah. “Her place is where she is happy.”

“She’s a strange child. You know her well, Leah. It is hard to get close to her.”

“Oh, she’s fond of you … in her way, Mrs. Barrington. And she’s fond of me … in the same way.”

“She has her likes and dislikes. Yet she ran away from us, remember. Can you understand her running away from a comfortable home to live in the open?”

“Sir Jake did it, Mrs. Barrington.”

“So he did and became Romany Jake for a while. Those days seem long ago, Leah.”

“Yet they live clear in the memory. They might have been yesterday.”

I looked at her across the darkening room. There was an expression of terror flitting across her face and I knew that she was living through those moments when that man had seized her and Jake had come to her rescue. That was something she would never forget.

She had lured Jake’s daughter away from us, yet how gentle she looked now as she sat there with her hands in her lap, remembering.

Did she love Jake? Was she aware that he was my lover? Was it Leah who had taken the letters from my drawer?

We were both startled by the opening of the door.

Clare looked in.

“Oh,” she said, “sitting in the dark?”

“I came in to see if the fire was all right. Leah did the same. Then we started to talk.”

Clare looked from one to the other of us. “Shall I light a candle?” she asked. “It looks a little eerie in the firelight.”

She did so and turned to look at us, her eyes gazing steadily into mine.

I could not read her expression, but it seemed to be hiding something.

What is she thinking? I wondered. What does she know?

She was right. It did suddenly seem very eerie in that room.

Jake arrived two days before Christmas and my joy on seeing him was intense. I thought the manner in which we looked at each other must surely betray our feelings. I took him up to the red room myself. As soon as we were there he turned to me and held me fast against him.

“The waiting has been maddening,” he said.

“But now you are here, Jake,” I answered. “Yes … it has seemed very long.”

“I’ve made up my mind,” he went on. “We are not going on like this. Something shall be done.”

He would not release me and as I clung to him I shivered. “Not here, Jake. Not here in this house.”

“Something has to be done … and soon.”

“Yes,” I said. “But wait. Be patient. We’ll talk.” Then I tried to behave like a hostess. “I hope you have everything you want. If you don’t, one of the maids …”

He laughed. It was rather wild, reckless laughter which I had heard so often. “There is only one thing I want,” he said. “You know what that is.”

I replied: “I must go down. People are watchful in this house, I believe.”

“Watchful?”

“Leah … because I believe she is in love with you and Clare because she is in love with my husband.” I drew myself away. “We shall be dining at seven. Could you be down just before.”

And I was gone.

It was a pleasant evening. I was amazed how Jake could behave with such detached calm towards Edward. No one would have guessed that he was indulging in a love affair with Edward’s wife.

As her father’s presence made it a special occasion, Tamarisk dined with us. I was delighted when she asked him questions not only about London but about Cornwall too.

He discussed the differences between farming in England and Australia and talked so entertainingly that Tamarisk said: “I should like to go to Australia.” And he replied: “Perhaps I will take you one day.”

Much later when I went to say goodnight to Edward I sat down and we talked for a while.

He said: “I think that man is beginning to charm Tamarisk a little.”

“I thought so too.”

“I daresay the day will come when she will go to him.”

“We shall have to wait and see. I have a feeling that she will always prefer to be where Jonathan is.”

“She’s a faithful creature. I like that in her.”

I said a hasty goodnight. Talk of faithfulness was a little disturbing to such a guilty conscience as mine.

The next day with Tamarisk and Jake I rode over to Eversleigh to help my mother with the arrangements for Christmas.

The house was in turmoil. The gardeners were bringing in plants from the greenhouses and festooning holly and ivy round the pictures in the gallery and on the walls of the great hall: mistletoe was placed in such places as would allow people to stand beneath them and give and receive the traditional kisses. From the kitchen quarters came the smell of baking.

My mother was in a state of delight and exasperation. She loved these occasions at Eversleigh when everything must be done in accordance with the old traditions. Jonathan had gone with some of the gardeners to bring in the yule log and Tamarisk immediately declared her intention of going to help them.

“The Pettigrews will be arriving today,” said my mother. “You know how house-proud her ladyship is. She’s prying into everything to see if there is a speck of dust anywhere.”

“I daresay the servants at Pettigrew Hall are glad to be rid of her for a short while,” I said.

Tamarisk had gone off and after a little conversation during which my mother told me that everything was under control and there was nothing I could do to help, Jake and I left. I could see that this was one of the rare occasions when my mother wished to be on her own.

As we rode off together, Jake said: “How good it is to be alone … for a while.”

I broke into a gallop and he was soon pounding along beside me.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To the sea,” I shouted.

I could smell the sea… that mixture of seaweed and wet wood and the indefinable odour of the ocean. I filled my lungs with it and I was happy for a moment… putting aside all fears and doubts and giving myself up to the sheer joy of being with Jake.

We pulled up as we came to the cliff and I walked my horse through the gully onto the shore, Jake following me.

The sea was slate grey on that morning; the waves came in delicately swishing the shore, showing a lacy froth on the edge of their frills.

“It is always magnificent… whatever mood it is in,” I said.

“Admittedly the sea is very grand,” said Jake. “But, Jessica, what about us?”

“What can there be? You’ve been to the house. You’ve talked with Edward. Surely you can see there is nothing I can do. I could never tell him that I was going away from him.”

“You could spend the rest of your life … just like this?”

“I have accepted it.”

“You accepted it before you realized what it meant.”

“You mean … before you came back?”

“That has changed it, hasn’t it?”

I was silent.

Then he said: “Jessica, what are we going to do?”

“Nothing. There is nothing we can do. The wisest thing would be for you to go away from here … for us to forget each other.”

“Do you think I should ever forget you?”

“I don’t know. In time I suppose you would.”

“Never,” he said. “You can’t believe I shall allow this state of affairs to continue.”

“It is not a matter of whether you will allow it or not. It is as it is. We have made it as it is and that is how it must remain.”

“You will give me up … for Edward?”

“I have no alternative. I shall never be happy, I know, for I shall be thinking of you every minute of the days. But if I left Edward I should be thinking of him. I have resigned myself to living this life which leads nowhere … except to the end. That is how it must be. I made it that way and now I must endure it.”

“I shall not let it be like that.”

“Dear Jake, how will you prevent it?”

“I shall find a way. I shall not rest until I find a way.”

“Let’s gallop along the beach,” I said. “It’s exhilarating. I always love to do it. Come on.”

I went forward and he followed me. The wind caught at my hair and for a few moments I could forget everything but the joy of the ride, forget all the problems which had to be faced; I could forget trusting Edward and demanding Jake; I could forget that I had betrayed my husband and that I was being blackmailed by Peter Lansdon and that someone else had seen the impassioned letters which Jake had written to me and in which was an unmistakable admission of our relationship. All that could be set aside during those few moments of a reckless gallop along a shore with the grey quiet sea on one side and the white cliffs rising on the other.

But as we walked our horses, single file, through the gully which led from the beach to the road, I kept thinking of Jake’s words: “I shall not rest until I have found a way.”

Christmas Day dawned mild and damp.

We had all been to the midnight service on Christmas Eve and had gone back to Eversleigh to drink hot punch and eat mince pies afterwards. Then Jake and I, with Tamarisk—who had pleaded to be a member of the party—all rode back to Grasslands while Amaryllis and Peter went back to Enderby.

There were several guests staying at Eversleigh—including Millicent and Lord and Lady Pettigrew. So we were a very merry party.

“You must come over in the morning, Jessica,” said my mother. “You must be here when the carol singers arrive.”

“I’ll be here,” I told her. “But I’ll go home for luncheon and come back again with everyone about six o’clock.”

My mother nodded, well pleased.

There was a great deal to do and this was one of the occasions when my help was needed.

I awoke on Christmas morning with that strange mingling of excitement and alarm which was often with me now.

I went to see Edward, taking my gift with me … a silk dressing gown, the kind of garment which he used frequently now, for often he would not get dressed but would sit in his dressing gown all day.

He received it with great pleasure and he produced his gift for me. It was an eternity ring, one of those with diamonds all round. It was very beautiful and I exclaimed in delight.

His next words disturbed me slightly. He said: “I asked Clare to choose for me what she thought would suit you best.”

So Clare had chosen the ring! An eternity ring! Was that to remind me that I was bound to Edward for as long as I should live? What was going on in Clare’s mind? I was convinced now that she was the one who had found the letters.

I slipped the ring on my finger.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“It is to remind you that I shall love you for ever. I don’t say enough. I’m too reticent, but there are things which I feel so deeply and words are inadequate to express. I could never tell you what I feel about all you have done for me. When I knew I was never going to be whole again I was in despair. Willingly I would have ended my life. Then you came and said you were going to marry me.”

“You tried to dissuade me, Edward.”

“I had to. I couldn’t condemn you to a life that was really no life for a healthy young woman. And when you insisted I was coward enough to let you do it. But that gave me the courage to go on. I knew I could … with you. And that is how it is. While you are with me, showing me your loving care, I can bear it all. You are wonderful.”

“Oh Edward,” I said, “you make me feel so ashamed.”

“Ashamed! Why should you? You have made life happy for me. When I see you in the mornings I feel glad to be alive. I would do anything within my power for you, Jessica.”

“You do,” I replied. I kissed him and he held me tightly. I felt very emotional. I loved him. It is possible for a woman to love two men at the same time. I loved Edward for his gentleness, his unselfishness, his kindliness, and for the depth of his love for me. I loved Jake because he was vital, exciting, the man with whom I could know complete happiness if in taking it I was not hurting Edward.

I released myself and he kissed the ring on my finger. I made a vow within myself then. I said: “Edward, I shall always be here … as long as you want me.”

We went to church on Christmas morning and after that we all went back to Eversleigh. The carol singers came and I helped my mother serve them with hot punch and Christmas cake which was the traditional offering.

Then I returned to Grasslands for luncheon. In the afternoon I went for a ride with Tamarisk and Jake. Clare joined us.

There was little opportunity to talk to Jake. He sought to elude the others but I did not encourage him in this. That tender scene with Edward was still very much in my mind and I was conscious of my eternity ring and all it implied.

Clare seemed to be always beside me. There was a set smile about her lips. I fancied she was reminding me of the duty I owed to Edward.

The evening was like many Christmases I remembered at Eversleigh. The table in the great hall was beautifully decorated with several silver candelabra which were only used on such occasions; and there were sprigs of holly by every place.

We had the usual fare and dinner went on for a long time after which we retired to the solarium where games were played until the hall was cleared for dancing.

I was sitting beside Edward when Jake came along and asked me to dance with him.

I said: “No. I would like to sit beside my husband.”

But Edward would have none of it. “You must dance,” he said. “I like to see you dancing.”

“I don’t think I will, thanks.”

Jake took my hands. “She should, shouldn’t she?” he said to Edward.

Edward replied most emphatically that I should. “I’ll watch you,” he added.

“I’ll take great care of her,” replied Jake.

“I’m sure you will,” said Edward.

I felt uneasy with Jake and a little angry. I was very emotional on that night and Jake seemed almost lighthearted. He did not seem to understand how I felt about Edward.

I knew that Edward’s eyes were on us as we danced. I could imagine that he was thinking how cruel life was to rob him of his strength and manhood, of his ability to lead a natural life so that he must sit there and watch his wife dance with another man.

I don’t know what was the greater in that moment—the desire to abandon myself to this emotion which Jake alone could arouse in me, or my love for Edward and my determination never to let him know that I had swerved from the vows I had taken on our marriage.

Jake said: “You must tell him some time, Jessica.”

“How could I?”

“Just tell him.”

“You’ve seen how he is.”

“I believe he would understand.”

“He would certainly understand. But how could I leave him?”

“You have a choice to make. So has he. So have I. Yours to take which way of life is more important to you; his to keep you and suffer infinite remorse because of what he has deprived you. Mine is how much longer I shall allow this state to prevail.”

“It is not in your hands, Jake.”

“It could be,” he said.

“It is for me to make the choice, and I have known for a long time that I cannot leave Edward.”

“You love him more?”

“Of course I don’t. I could love you completely … if Edward were not there. But he is there. I married him and I know for certain now that I can never leave him.”

“And what of us?”

“You will go back to Cornwall. You will forget me.”

“I must certainly go to Cornwall. Forget you, I never will. Nor shall I lose you. I am going to find a way, Jessica. Believe me … we are going to be together … somehow.”

“No, Jake. It can’t be. I knew today … if ever I knew, that I have to stay with Edward as long as he needs me.”

Clare passed. She was dancing with Lord Pettigrew who performed rather ponderously. They were close to us and I saw that Clare’s eyes were watchful. What was she thinking? She knew that Jake and I were lovers. The letters had betrayed that. I believed she hated me because I had married Edward. I had taken him from her and now it seemed I did not want him.

Of course he ought to have married Clare. She would have been a devoted nurse. That would have been enough for her. She had always loved him. I guessed she would have looked up to him as a small child when he would have seemed so much older than she was, and so powerful. He would have been kind to the poor orphan girl, the poor relation who had been taken into the household because there was nowhere else for her to go. He would have been kindly sympathetic, sensing her loneliness. And of course she had given her absolute devotion to him. She was the faithful sort who would love him for ever. She must have hoped to marry him. That would have been the perfect culmination for her. Then I had come along, taken him from her, and having secured the prize indulged in a passionate love affair with someone else.